


Change Like the Tides

by In_love_with_writing002



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: 2020 Geraskier Fic Exchange, Beaches, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Geralt is a good dad, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Angst, Old Men In Love, Past and Present, Siren!Jaskier, The Coast, They're really just so in love, and soft touches, he loves jaskier, lots of kisses, sand in Places, soft in general
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:33:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26018821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_love_with_writing002/pseuds/In_love_with_writing002
Summary: “Siren blood,” Yennefer had said. “Less than a quarter of it, but it’s there.”In which Geralt and Jaskier go to the coast. Told in both present tense and past tense for the two different series of events.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 14
Kudos: 139
Collections: Geraskier Exchange





	Change Like the Tides

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ive got bread in my pants (marin27)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marin27/gifts).



> A gift for the 2020 Geraskier fic Exchange for the lovely marin27!! I hope you like it, I kind of went a little hog wild with your prompt about immortal Jaskier. I've been meaning to write a Siren! Jaskier AU for a while now, and I figured now would be a good time!

It made sense now, why Geralt was so drawn to Jaskier’s voice. Why the bard recovered so quickly from near-death, why he was so drawn to the coast. Geralt watched Jaskier, whose eyes were shut, body submerged in water, the barely-there shimmer of scales up his neck, on his forearms, reflecting light off his hips.

 _“Siren blood,”_ Yennefer had said. _“Less than a quarter of it, but it’s there.”_

_—_

“Let’s go to the coast,” Geralt said. “Get away for a while, as you wanted.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier responded, rolling until he was above him, pressing their chests together. “Don’t tell me you’re getting sentimental in your age.” He pressed a kiss to the corner of Geralt’s mouth, and it lifted into a smile responsively.

“Winter’s coming,” Geralt said. “I thought you’d want to spend it somewhere warmer. You’re not a young man anymore.”

“What a pair we make, Old lovesick fools,” Jaskier chuckled, kissing him normally. As much as Jaskier disliked getting older, he’d aged very handsomely. The grey in his hair was fetching, made him look wiser, and his wrinkles made him look more distinguished. But the weather was harsher on him, and he took longer getting out of bed, and his stamina wasn’t what it had been. “I guess I can pass on teaching this season and honeymoon with you. Never did get to before Ciri came along. But she’ll be safe with the others this Winter.”

Geralt hummed. Ciri was in good hands, as much as he missed her. As much as they _both_ missed her. Vesemir knew what she meant to Geralt though, and would never mistreat her.

“So?” Geralt asked, running a hand over his lover’s cheek.

“To the coast it is.”

—

“If you were going to stand there and stare, the least you could do is fetch me some juice.” 

Geralt turns his attention to Yennefer, who’s sitting on the opposite side of the tub. “I told you he’d be okay.” Geralt chokes on words. “I know,” he manages on a shaky breath. Jaskier looks so at peace, and he knows it’s Yennefer’s magic, but he hopes his bard is having a pleasant dream.

“Well, then?” Yennefer raises her eyebrows. “What do you want?”

“I’m sorry,” he blurts before he can stop himself. “About the djinn.” He has to find _some_ reason. “And everything else.”

Yennefer sighs. “Apologies won’t help your beloved recover, Geralt.” She seems exasperated but honest, and more than a little fond. “Now bring me a drink.” He turns his eyes downward. “And let my other guest in.”

Geralt’s eyebrows knit together in confusion, but he keeps walking. He’s just gotten a jug for her when there’s a knock on the door. It has to be this “other guest” so he opens it, juice still in hand.

“I came as soon as I heard,” Ciri greets, and her scent washes over Geralt, sweat from riding and running hard all day, hair drawn back into a tie, and bright eyes full of worry.

“Ciri.”

She launches herself into his arms, and they wrap around her tightly. “I have so much to tell you,” she says, grinning. “But first I have to make sure he’s okay.” And she’s gone again, just like that, scurrying off to where Yennefer calls a greeting. Geralt blinks a few times to recover and shut the door. He hasn’t seen her in a while— he can’t remember if she’s always been just a few inches shorter than him. His feet carry him back into the room with Jaskier, where Yennefer takes the jug as he sits down across from her. “How did this happen?” She asks. “Why now?”

“That’s Geralt’s story to share,” Yennefer says, looking at him pointedly. Ciri turns her eyes to him, and he sighs, recounting the tale for the second time that day.

—

They rented a little seaside cottage to spend the winter in. Jaskier looked ecstatic about it, and Geralt was _so fucking in love,_ they danced around and with each other in the main room, shared much needed, very extended baths, and made love long and slow on every possible surface until Jaskier was too tired to go on.

Over and over, the same routine.

Every day for nearly a month, they moved and sang and laughed and _loved,_ every day circling closer and closer, stars in orbit, content and basking in the presence of each other.

“You know,” Jaskier said while they were snuggled together on the porch one evening. “We’ve spent so much time making up for living on the road we haven’t gone to the beach.”

Geralt pulled him a bit closer when he shivered.

“I want to go.”

“Okay,” Geralt replied. “Now?”

“Tomorrow. We’ll spend the day in the water; we can have a picnic, it’ll be lovely.” His lips stretched into a grin, showing off the deep lines on his face. “I wouldn’t even mind the discomfort of the sand if you wanted to take me there,” he added with a wink. Geralt laughed and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

 _I love you,_ said his heart. “I don’t believe you,” said his mouth.

“You underestimate the depth of my devotion to you if you truly doubt me. You’re lucky I love you.” Jaskier was as receptive as always. “Now let’s go inside,” he said. “It’s nearly night time, and I want to sleep.” Jaskier had started going to bed earlier and earlier, weary from moving around all day. It sickened Geralt to think about him being older, but he knew what Jaskier was. Human, with a human lifespan. He could only hope to get a few more precious moments, a few more minutes to remind Jaskier that he was loved, wanted and that Geralt would do anything for him.

Geralt laid him down in bed and kissed his forehead gently, beginning to move away before Jaskier tugged him back for a better kiss. Geralt slid his hands into grey-brown hair, shut his eyes, let a hum slide from his throat to show his approval. “Goodnight,” He said when they separated for air. Jaskier flipped back the blankets and patted the space beside him, pressing his back against Geralt’s chest as he climbed into bed. His heart squeezed too tight with emotion, and he pulled Jaskier close, joining their hands and moving to rest them in front of his lover. “May your dreams be restful,” he kissed the back of Jaskier’s neck.

“I love you, Geralt.” The words faded into soft snores, and he murmured a response in the dark.

—

Geralt stops talking when there’s motion in the tub, and he sees Jaskier’s mouth open and shut around soundless words. Something like music comes out instead, making Geralt’s throat tighten with emotion. He gingerly places a hand on Jaskier’s brow, smoothing his hair back away from his face. His teeth had lengthened slightly, just enough to mark him inhuman.

“He’s still out,” Yennefer says, drawing his attention back to her.

“When will he wake up?” Ciri asks. Geralt makes eye contact with Yennefer.

“Soon,” she says. Her eyes tell Geralt she has no idea. “Keep going, Geralt.”

Geralt takes a shaky breath in and clears his throat. He looks down at Jaskier once again, youthful features back on his face— Jaskier is strikingly handsome, and Geralt is amazed at himself for taking so long to acknowledge it.

“Geralt?” Ciri’s voice interrupts his thoughts, and he retrieves his hand from the water. Pining won’t help Jaskier, he tells himself.

“Right,” he says and continues.

—

“Good morning, dear.”

Geralt could have laughed, as it was he smiled as Jaskier opened his eyes. Who would have thought that it was something he could have, to wake up next to someone and have them say “good morning, dear.”

“Are you ready for our day on the beach?” Jaskier grinned as Geralt wrapped an arm around him. They kissed gently, and Geralt pressed his forehead to his. “Someone’s feeling tender,” Jaskier chuckled and put his hand on Geralt’s shoulder. “Save it for when we’re on the sand, love.”

Geralt rolled out of bed and dressed for the day, not bothering to put on his boots. They would only get covered in the sand anyway. Jaskier dressed light, foregoing the typical doublet-and-trousers he favoured and putting on just a shirt with loose breeches. Geralt thought he looked stunning.

“Shall we, then?” Jaskier said, inclining his head towards the door of the cottage. Geralt hummed his agreement, stepping closer and kissing Jaskier’s forehead.

“Let’s go,” He murmured against his skin.

“Sentimental oaf,” Jaskier scoffed, though he slid his arms around Geralt’s waist. “If you continue to kiss me like that, we’ll never get out of here.” That sounded like a good thing to Geralt. He smirked lightly, hugging Jaskier back.

“Maybe that’s what I’m hoping for.”

Jaskier made an offended noise, shoving Geralt lightly. “You promised!” He said. “Geralt of Rivia, if you do not take me to the beach right now, I will never give you a kiss again.” Melitele have mercy, Geralt was going to burst if he fell any more in love with him.

“Alright,” Geralt said placatingly, stepping back and twining their hands together. “Fine. Let’s go.”

The walk down to the beach was brief; the cottage thankfully set right at the top of the sandbar. Jaskier released Geralt almost as soon as they got onto the sand, complaining about the heat under his feet and jumping from foot to foot until he reached the space where the waves crashed onto the shore. Geralt took it more leisurely, unaffected by the heat as he walked to meet him. Jaskier splashed his feet in the water, looking over to Geralt and grinning.

“This is nice,” Jaskier said, tugging Geralt into the water with him. Geralt wrapped him in his arms and pulled him closer. “Why would you turn me away when we could have had this?”

Guilt sliced through Geralt’s gut.

“I-”

“Joking, dear. You know I don’t hold it against you.”

Geralt almost pushed him into the water. “I wasn’t ready to do it, back then,” he said, pushing his nose into Jaskier’s hair. “I’m ready now. And it’s better this way.”

“Hmm.” Jaskier put his hand up against Geralt’s neck, rubbing at the back of it lightly. “Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

“Too late,” Geralt said, kissing Jaskier’s cheek. Jaskier laughed, and it was like a melody to Geralt’s ears. He stepped back, his hand sliding to cup Geralt’s jaw.

“Come make love to me,” He whispered. Geralt’s chest tightened.

“Don’t complain about the sand,” Geralt said back, turning to kiss Jaskier’s hand. Jaskier chuckled and tugged Geralt’s hand to pull him closer.

—

“Disgusting,” Yennefer scoffs. “Ciri doesn’t need to hear the _details,_ Geralt.”

“Hush,” Ciri chastises with a chuckle. “They’re in love; I think it’s sweet.”

Geralt smiles lightly, looking back down into the water. Jaskier would love to hear a sappy retelling of their romantic vacation. He runs his fingers through Jaskier’s hair gently, pushing it out of his face once again. If only he was awake to turn his head into the touch. He runs his thumb down the side of his jaw, rubbing lightly over the scales there. Even with his inhuman features, Geralt thinks Jaskier is stunning.

“Geralt?” His attention snaps back into focus, and he looks over at Ciri, blushing.

“Sorry,” he mutters, realizing she’s been talking to him.

“If this keeps up, I’m going to need something stronger than apple juice to keep working.”

Ciri laughs at Yennefer’s comment, and Geralt smiles to himself. “Well, I’m not fetching it. I want to hear how the story ends.”

“We’re almost to the end,” Geralt assures. “I’ll spare you the intimate parts.”

“Thank the gods,” Yennefer mutters from across the tub. “Skip to the part about him getting in the water.”

—

“I think I have earned a bit of a rinse-off,” Jaskier said, stretching to his feet. Miles of naked skin filled his vision, and Geralt took a moment to appreciate it before looking away. “Care to join me?”

Geralt was still lying breathless in the sand, scratching lazily at his stomach. “Go on without me, I’m…” He closed his eyes and hummed lightly. “I’m alright.”

“Your loss!” Jaskier called. Geralt smiled softly when he heard the sounds of Jaskier in the water, laughing and splashing while he waded in.

“Don’t drown,” he warned.

“ _Watch me._ ”

Geralt laughed, hearing him suck in a deep breath, then splash as he went under. He was glad that Jaskier was enjoying himself. It had been a long time coming, this getaway, and he deserved it. He was bound to retire from a lot of his travels soon, pushing into old age, losing his touch with crowds— Geralt had heard him complain that the younger girls weren’t flirting with him anymore. Had claimed that he looked like he could have been their father. And while that was possibly true, Jaskier hadn’t thought of himself as old before. Geralt always assured him he looked young, after that.

Hmm.

How long had Jaskier been under the water?

Geralt pushed himself onto his hands to look. No sign of hands propelling him through the water. Geralt grinned to himself, remembering his joke just before he dove. “If you’re playing at drowning, it’s not going to work on me.” There was a flash of a hand out in the water, and Geralt raced into the waves. What was his ridiculous lover playing at?

Then his medallion vibrated on his chest.

 _Sirens,_ Geralt thought, suddenly panicked. But there was no singing, and he hadn’t felt any vibrations before. He dove his head into the water when it was just up to his chest to look underwater. The salt burned at his eyes, but he adjusted quickly—

Jaskier was pushing himself down with his hands, keeping himself under, and there were no sirens around. Just his silly antics then, Geralt thought with relief. But his medallion was still shaking, what was-

That was when Geralt noticed Jaskier’s mouth was open, and he was _panting_. _Water._ And his-

His hair-

Was brown once again.

The wrinkles erased from his face.

It was as if time had reversed itself, and now looked hardly over twenty-three.

Geralt scooped him under the arms and pulled up, pulling him from the water. He’d been under for far too long, had too much water in his lungs, needed to-

“I can’t-” Jaskier fought against Geralt once they were out of the water, trying to push himself back under. “Breathe—” he shoved hard at Geralt’s chest, and Geralt let go of him, watching Jaskier sink back into the water and take a breath in. There was a shimmer of light reflecting iff if Jaskier’s neck, and with a gasp, Geralt realised Jaskier was breathing through _gills._

“What the fuck,” Geralt muttered to himself. He dove under and grabbed Jaskier’s wrist, pulling him behind as he swam back to the shore. He kept his eyes on Jaskier, making sure Jaskier’s head stayed under. He had seen right, Geralt thought. As they got further out of the water, he could see patches of scales reflecting light, gills flaring on his throat, and Jakier looked like he was coughing on it, his body shaking as he breathed it in like… well like he’d just come up from drowning. He would need to call Yennefer.

—

“Wow,” Ciri says softly. “That must have been terrifying.”

“He was practically crying when I found him,” Yennefer mumbles. Geralt’s cheeks grew warm.

“It took an entire day before anyone came,” he says, to drive home the point. It _was_ terrifying. “I had to get a letter to Vesemir to use the megascope. Then he had to tell Yennefer where we were. Jaskier fell unconscious not too long after I moved him into a tub of water.”

“I can’t believe it,” Ciri sighs. “So he’s part siren, then?”

“Exactly,” Yennefer says. “Based on what I know, he hasn’t been to the coast since he was very young. But he was born there.”

“Yes,” Geralt confirms. “He hadn’t been home in a long time.” He brushes his hand over Jaskier’s face again. “Decades. Since he was a child.”

“Did he know?” Ciri asks. “About his past.”

“Unlikely,” Yennefer answers. “He says his grandmother died before he was born, and the former viscount of Lettenhove, his grandfather, was married into the family. His father is the only one left of Jaskier’s lineage, and he’s never shown any signs of having siren blood.”

“And he’s a bastard,” Geralt adds. “Hence why Jaskier never went home.”

Jaskier would have loved to slander his father into the dirt if he had the option. Not for the first tie, Geralt wishes for him to wake up.

“He’ll wake up soon,” Ciri says, putting a hand on Geralt’s shoulder. “And he’ll be okay. Might be confused, but that’s not unusual for him..”

Geralt holds back tears that threaten to spill from his eyes and chuckles. “Yeah,” he croaks. He runs his fingers through Jaskier’s wet hair, heart aching.

“Just wait,” Yennefer jumps into the conversation. “He’ll be even more dramatic once he learns the truth. Can you imagine it?” Yennefer’s voice lifts several octaves. “ _Oh, Geralt,_ no _wonder_ I became so famous! I just _have_ to keep performing. How long do sirens live, I wonder? And look at how young I seem! I could go on travelling for _decades,_ my love.”

“Stop, stop,” Ciri waves a hand frantically, laughing hard enough she has to clutch at her sides. “ _Decades!”_ She cackles.

Geralt is smiling again while he touches Jaskier’s face. He could appreciate decades more with Jaskier. Decades more of them, together, roaming the continent, listening to him sing, hearing him laugh, walking beside him and waking up with him. “Decades,” he mumbles. Decades of bad jokes, awkward flirtations, of getting him out of trouble, decades of banquets, performances, of complaints about Jaskier’s aching feet. Decades more to love him, and to be loved by him. “I can do that.”

Deep down, he knows that it will still never be enough time.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it!!! Happy Fic Exchange :))))


End file.
